


Everything Will be Okay

by HeIsSoNotOkay



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: I swear I'll get to them screwing, M/M, Okay the warning was for the dreams, Sam Wilson also has a weak stomach, Sam Wilson is a Gift, She has no time for secks, She's an enigma, Shuri is just there, T'Challa is topping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2019-10-11 17:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17451065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeIsSoNotOkay/pseuds/HeIsSoNotOkay
Summary: Sam Wilson needs help.





	1. Shaken

_"There's no way you can be forgiven. You are a criminal. You will be caught, you are never going to be safe again. You deserve the pain you feel. You are disgusting, you are worth none of the blood you shed. You are disgusting. You are disgusting. You are disgusting. You are disgusting. You are disgusting."_

_"Dammit, not again, I can't do this again, please don't make me do this again-" Sam was being chased. Why was he back in the U.S? Why did it always start here? He didn't know. He was flying, faster than he thought possible. They were shooting. 'I can make it back. To Wakanda. To T'challa. I can do it this time I know it, I can make it, just let me find it, where is it, where is-"  One of the bullets caught him. The excruciating pain never ceased to electrify each nerve in his body. "ShitShitShitShit I can't make it, I can't do this-"  There was another shot, then another, both with life threatening accuracy. This was the worst part. Wings flailing, Sam started falling towards the vast blue under him. He saw the land in the distance, he was so close, but, as every other time, not close enough. The ocean was getting closer, ready to accept Sam as sacrifice for all that he did. Blood trailing behind him, red coated his vision. Red, red, red and he couldn't see anything else. The water hit him like a punch to his entire body, making Sam remember he needed to breathe. He couldn't move, the gear was weighing him down and the blood was clouding the water around him. "Damn it..." He thought to himself. "I could've made it.." The fight never lasted long, for Sam didn't have enough oxygen to hold anyways. His heart hammered madly, it felt like he was pumping acid through his veins. His lungs screamed in dire demand of air. Black spots clouded his vision and the last few bubbles of air escaped his throat. Choking and afraid, Sam let the darkness take over._

 

Sam awoke drenched in sweat and panic. He was alive, but his peace of mind was long deceased. The uncontrollable shivering took over, making his vision blurry and his heart shudder in quick beats. He convulsed in fear as waves of nausea hit. This sucked. He felt weak. He couldn't move. Tears raced down his face. The memories always had this effect on him. There has no escape. This was the freeze, then came the flight. All of a sudden, Sam couldn't escape, he was crawling out of his skin. He had to find someone-, he had to find T'challa. ' _Where-, T'challa.'_ Sam was up on his feet, running towards the door. ' _I have to-, He's gotta be here somewhere.'_   The huge walkway led to so many split hallways, Sam felt light-headed with doubt he'd make it into the kings arms before collapsing into a mess. He started his path with as much calmness as he could forge. Then Sam broke into a sprint.

    Head spinning, eyes misted,Sam halfway-ran down the hallways, trying to remember where in the hell T'challa's room was. The doors were all so elaborate and pristine that he could really be behind any of them. Had he been down this hall already? Does that door look any more familiar than the one before it? Hell if he knew. _"Oh you're fucking kidding me."_ Sam groaned internally. At the end of the 5th hallway he ran down, the Dora Milaje stood, spears grounded, in a two-team formation. "Were they always there?". His pace quickened towards them, heart in his throat. They broke their meditative state to cast eyes upon him. "Is T'chal-, I mean the- the king here?" Sam choked out tautly. The Dora Milaje replied in a monotone.

"He is out on business, what do you need?"

  _Peace, relief, safety_

 _"_ Uh, I just-, I wanted to-"

_His arms around me, safer than any gun, any sword, any shield_

_"_ It's, like I just-, I need-"

_His attentive gaze, safety, love_

 "Shit-"

The tears that threatened to fall finally made way down his cheeks. Sam dropped to his knees in defeat, holding himself as the tremors of his crying shook through him. The Dora Milaje set aside their weapons immediately, pulling him up and pushing open the doors. "You stay here, we will notify you once the king has returned" They set a crumpled Sam onto the love seat in T'challa's office, retreating after he meekly thanked them. Face, wet and puffy, Sam looked around the place he wished he could spend all day in. It only took a few minutes of being surrounded by the familiar sight and scent that Sams heart rate pulled itself back down. He noticed a large fur jacket hanging inside a partially closed closet. Abandoning all pride, Sam grabbed it and shoved his face into it, inhaling and shuddering as the feeling of not being alone finally graced him. He pulled his knees to his chest, covered himself with the jacket, and tossed his arm over his head as he tried to find peace. After a few breathing exercises, Sam drifted slowly to sleep, the crying and stress wringing him out to nearly nothing.


	2. I'm here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sam, I need you to know something. No matter what you tell me, I will always be there for you. I am a king and a warrior, but most importantly, I'm your friend. People do what they think is right, or they follow orders they don't want to, but the blood on their hand's won't stay forever. You have pain in your heart that needs to be released. I will never give up on your willpower. You can do this, but don't rush it if you feel now is not the right time-"

_These foolish men, with their stuffy suits, noses high, as if their shit doesn't stink. They're disgusting, factions can't keep the world afloat. But we could... We could hold up the world, flourishing with life and love._

 

 T'challa, as everyone knew, despised political messes. He wanted equality, they wanted more money. He wanted flourishing, they wanted money. What was wrong with them? He could only hold his blank expression for so long. Then things got tough. His remarks had poison to them but his smile remained poised. As long as he remained the worlds peace symbol, nothing could hurt him or the ones he loved. 

  Finally, after a horrendous day of being stuck in meetings and inquiries, the king had made his way back home. 'There is insatiability everywhere these days. I don't know how they made it this far." He huffed and shrugged off his coat. 'Well, what did you expect?" A voice bubbled behind him. "Shuri, you are honestly a bigger bully than I've ever seen." They mock-saluted each other, Shuri smacking the back of his head when he passed. "And you wouldn't have me any other way!" They had a laugh, joked with each other and parted ways. Shuri, to her lab to improve on anything she could get her hands on. T'challa to retire to his safe haven for a much needed nap.

 

  Sam was in a deep slumber, curled up and hiding under the massive coat. He didn't wake when the door swung open and the king strode in. Or when he sat down and groaned into his hands,  dropping his head onto his desk in melodramatic defeat. He DID, however, stir in a groggy state once T'challa sat on the love seat's other cushion, mushing him gently. 

  "Sam Wilson? Are you well? I was told your urgently requested my presence, so I sent Shuri to complete the other half of my meetings so we could finish in half the time. What's wrong-" 

   Sam slurred a " _Shhhhhhhh_ " T'challa's way, mumbling about how it was late and they could talk later. Then his blood-shot eyes snapped open, completely disheveled at how deep of a sleep he fell into, and how he was wrapped in  _two_ jackets now. "I-, shit, T'challa I'm sorry man, I was-, you weren't here and I-" The memories flooded his head in flutters. The crying, the collapsing, the running...The dream. He glimpsed to T'challa's face, who he noticed hadn't said anything and was waiting patiently, what a gentleman.

  "I wanted to talk to you." Sam grumbled quietly. 

The king had such a soft, tender look to him, the bags under his eyes made him look so worn, and irresistibly even stubble covered the lower half of his face. It felt so right to just let go and have him be the shoulder Sam could lay on, and vice versa if he wanted. 

  "About?" 

  "S'nothing... Just some dream I kept having." Sam tried to force it out, telling T'challa 'nothing' wasn't going to help either of them. "It's really bothersome..."

Looking back at him expectantly, T'challa pulled on of Sams hands up and held It, giving a reassuring squeeze. "Please go on, if you're comfortable." They locked eyes with each other for a few, heavy seconds, assessing body language and inner feelings.

 _'Well, here goes nothing'_ Sam thought to himself, breathing deep and sitting up completely. "It's-, well it's like a recurring dream where I'm flying, well-, flying  _away_ from something. I mean, someone-, people . They're shooting at me and I'm trying to escape. There's this constant echo that I'm the worst person ever and I'll never be forgiven and, and I-" 

 Choking up, Sam could feel T'challa moving close, a reassuring hand making slow circles on his back, silently whispering  _"You are okay here, I am here and I will protect you. Take your time and go on when you're ready."_

 "I'm trying to get away, and I see Wakanda, but It's an island in the distance. I'm always trying to get there but-"

He stops again, but T'challa's chocolate warm stare kept him calm enough to continue. _"It's so hard to say, why is it so hard to say? He's here, he's listening, why do I keep choking? What is wrong with me?'_

 T'challa stopped rubbing Sam's back, shifting on the couch so that they were face to face. He gazed into Sams shimmering eyes and stated his truth matter-of-factly.

"Sam, I need you to know something. No matter what you tell me, I will always be there for you. I am a king and a warrior, but most importantly, I'm your friend. People do what they think is right, or they follow orders they don't want to, but the blood on their hand's won't stay forever. You have pain in your heart that needs to be released. I will never give up on your willpower. You can do this, but don't rush it if you feel now is not the right time-"

 Sam nodded his head sadly, the drowning feeling filling his chest. His resolution is strong, he wants, no,  _needs_ to finish this. Tell the whole truth, get it out, free himself.

"They shoot me down every single time I get close enough to land. And the pain? It feels so real. I can feel the blood soaking through the fabric of my uniform. They hit my wings, my chest, legs, everything. The pain is so potent. I can't stand it. I'm suddenly falling, straight out the sky, streaking blood and tears. I see the ocean growing so big, and I can't find the willpower to shield my face. I hit the surface and it feels like the surface is hitting me. I'm drowning, but I'm so exhausted and in pain that it's like a paralysis-"

Sam cut off, eyes darting back to T'challa, trying to gauge his expression. God, he looked so poised but open. It made continuing so much easier.

"I'm holding on to the water around me. And the blood makes everything red. So much red. My chest is hammering madly and I can't stop thinking ' _I could've made it this time'._ I can't hold my breath for long, so I scream silence once the pressure gets to much and then... Then I wake up, in a cold sweat, panicked and afraid and upset-"

His voice cracked, traitorously. T'challa had him in a full embrace, fulfilling what Sam had needed from the beginning. They stayed there, silent but attentive.  _"_ _You aren't alone, I'm here, you're safe, you made it here. I'll never let you go, you're enough, you're fine, you're accepted."_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting into the swing of things! Please tell me what you all think of my writing, grammar, sentence placement, anything you think would help the story flow~


	3. Smoothies Are best in Moderation

_"I will always be there for you. I am a king and a warrior, but most importantly, I'm your friend."_

 

     There wasn't much deep, heartfelt talking after that night, just eyes catching and quick smiles and giggles from texts. Sam had found that his bed pillows had been switched with lavender tinted ones. These new pillows had an odd sort of smell, like a soft, sweet, tart. Looking at one, flipping it over, tossing it around a few times, Sam could tell there was an advanced something about it that he had no idea how to begin to explain. Knowing who switched made the pillows made Sams heart flip, he hadn't forgotten that day he told T'challa everything. They texted when things became too much to handle, when things were unexpectedly going well. Once they got more comfortable with communicating casually, Sam began sending random pictures of cats, saying "Do you know him?", to which T'challa would find a bird and send it, replying "Are you related??". They slowly became the laughter of each other, making the hard days softer and the rainy days more appreciated. It wasn't until six months later that Sam realized T'challa was really there for him, and it all started with a video call from America.

   

_"You're a symbol of world peace, that should be enough to get you to hand that delinquent over to us-"_

"He is what I say he is. He's in my land and he's mine. What makes you think you can take him? He's on Wakandan soil, a place you couldn't find if we left an oil slicked track directly to it."

" _Your image, it's important to you isn't it? You preach so much about how you're such an advocate for world justice. You are on the wealthiest soil on this planet, and you'd throw all that away for a man that deserves to be-"_

"Tossed into one of your many elaborate institutions, jailing black men and women for following the caricature that you painted for them, so that they and their unsure generations can rot for all eternity? Oh, do tell me how justice is the real issue you are pressing into at the moment."

  _Your actions are most incomprehensible! What are you gaining from this man? Is he leaking government secret-"_

 _"_ I can assure you there's no secret your pitiful government has that we don't know of, don't think we haven't found out about your plans for-"

" _Okay, okay! Wait just a second here, you also know of our abilities to influence our little american slaves._ _How_ _would the controlled world feel knowing you harbor such a vile criminal-"_

 _"_ His name is not 'vile', or 'criminal, or 'delinquent', it's Sam Wilson and he is a subject of my kingdom. Now, if you really must come and take him from me, go ahead. But I must warn you, we  _will_ be right there, waiting patiently for your most expected arrival. Matter of fact, do let me know of the time your arrival should be expected? We'll have a warm welcome, waiting for you with dinner and a show. I'm certain you know that your sad little artillery is of no threat to even the smallest child in our kingdom. Now, about that date?"

" _Pshh, you-, you're-"_

"We don't bluff here, we will fight for him. You have no real business here. He's mine, and I believe that's final."

A click and the sound of yelling cut through the air as T'challa made his way out of the room. Striding quickly, he ran right into the man he was just defending. They, both tripped, caught off guard and stumbling down. 

"Sorr-, dammit, sorry T'challa, I wasn't eaves-, not eavesdropping. I was looking for you-," Sam stuttered terribly. He tried wiping his face discreetly, tears making themselves known. T'challa quickly noticed Sams red face and averting eyes, moving closer to him, pulling his hands from his face. "Sam Wilson, tell me why you're crying."

Sam sat up against the wall once T'challa moved closer, on his knees and observing further signs of distress. Sam had heard them confirm his fears, he'd be hunted until he died, and life could never be easy. The trembling took him again, hard and fast. There was no defense against it. The fight to freedom wasn't even close to being over. The nausea trailed like a smoke trail, heavy and paralyzing. 

"T'Challa-, Where's the-"

He dry heaved painfully and shakily tried to stand up, tipping over almost immediately. T'challa held him against the wall by his waist, chest to chest to support them both. Their faces were inches apart.

"Sam-, Sam I need you to look at me-"

     And then Sam threw up. Granted, all he had that morning was a fairly large smoothie, it still came up all over them both. T'challa jerked his face away, just barely missing tropical slush to his face. Sickly sweet filled the air, making them both weaker in the knees. 

"Oh my g-, shit I'm so sorry-" Sam tried to apologize, frantically, still heaving. He tried jerking away, but when T'challa held him back by his shoulders the force whipping him back around made his stomach do flips, consequently tossing up the rest of the smoothie. "How many smoothies-"

Sam smiled meekly, swooning with illness. "Just one, well-, kinda a few, but in a really big-"

T'challa had the time to pull over a waste bin for Sam to vomit in this time, rubbing his back slowly and trying not to puke himself. The smell of fruit and bile saturated the hallway. Not really something he wanted to think about for a long time, if ever. 

"Okay, you've thrown up at least a litre and a half of fluids, we need to get you cleaned up and drinking something light." 

Sam didn't reply, as he still feared throwing up anything that needed to stay in. Leaning heavily, Sam was guided to the kings room, barely aware of his current state.  

    They made it in, the Dora Milaje giving odd looks of concern as they let the soiled pair pass. "Let's get you out of this mess." T'challa made his way to the elaborate lavatory, slowly setting Sam onto one of the engraved stools. Sam was weary and drowsy, trying to sit up straight while T'challa removed the smoothie riddled clothes from his body. It was until T'challa was removing his pants that Sam was at 25% consciousness and thus trying in vain to snap back to his regular self.

"T'challa what-, I mean you can't-, the scars haven't-"

With a long sigh, T'challa held a strong gaze, deep into Sams eyes, for just a second too long. "I know, and I've seen them before."

Sam could feel the shaking beginning. The scratches, they weren't on purpose. Sam had a terrible habit of scratching himself in his sleep, during the nightmares routine. Cutting his nails religiously helped sometimes, but only for so long. He'd see the puffed up abrasions, and hate himself even more. If he didn't have time to cover everything and anyone asked, it was a reaction, scraped something, didn't know his skin would react. But here Sam was, in nothing but his briefs, the scratches fresh and red. He muttered a soft "Oh" and didn't say anything as T'challa stood up, stripping himself with just as much care. 

 The view of T'challa stripping wasn't painful, but it wasn't welcome either. Sam didn't know where to look. The ground was black, shiny and very, very reflective. As was the ceiling, he could see every defined muscle, flexing and contorting the clothes off. His muscles screamed "I earned this" with great pride. Sam tried not to stare, he really did, but the question of how they felt, what he worked on to achieve such a state, was mind twisting. As Sam zoned out, he hadn't noticed T'challa turn around to see him staring so intently, albeit drunkenly, at his ass. 

"Sam Wilson?"

Snapping his head up, Sam began blabbering about how he wasn't look at his ass, even though it was nice, but he wouldn't do that, not like he wouldn't because it was bad, it wasn't, it was nice, but not like, he'd stare at it, even though he would and  _why couldn't he shut up already-_

"I wasn't referring to the direction of your gaze, I was asking whether you prefer the shower or the bath?" Sam quickly silenced, his face flushing quickly. Was T'challa planning on helping him? In the shower? He stumbled once the problem of being lightheaded made itself apparent. 

"I-, The shower has a seat?" T'challa nodded, dimming the lights with a voice command. Sam slid his underwear off clumsily, holding on to T'challas broad shoulders with no shame left, hell, he already threw up all over him, can't get much lower than that. T'challa sat him on the shower bench, taking a step back to discard his own undergarments. 

The floor glowed a soft purple and the benches had an undercarriage light to them. Sam could hear T'challa pressing something, a touch pad? Glancing up, Sam saw the water fall like rain from the ceiling and the water glittering down onto T'challas body almost made him pass out right there. There was something about the rain-like scene that was calming and poetic. T'challa had a soap bottle and sponge in hand, both in gold and purple accents. Sam was dozing, fretting when he was called again. "Are you ready for me to-" Sam nodded meekly, his face too flushed to respond. Reaching his hand up, Sam pulled himself to a standing position, slightly swaying upon the raise of elevation. T'challa poured some of the aromatherapy soap onto the sponge, lathered, and began scrubbing as gently as possible.

 


	4. Conscious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a real chapter, just Sams thought process during the clean up. Unless you count this as a chapter, then yes, It is.

  _"Sam Wilson, please lift your arms."_

_"You aren't burdening me, stop saying that."_

_"You can lean on my side, you're fine."_

_"Hold on to the railing, or my shoulder, that's fine too."_

_"I'm not mad, you're okay, just face this way."_

_"Okay I'm going to clean here, relax, you aren't drowning."_

_"No, I'm not mad at you for staring at me earlier."_

_"Yes, I'm telling you the truth."_

_"No I'd never give you to them, you're mine."_

_"I said you're fine, turn around."_

_"You're tired, do not think so hard."_

_"I said you're fine, get under the water."_

 

Sam was drifting, in and out of consciousness, the effects of the soap having it's way with him. Heat caressed him, oversensitive and underwhelmed. There was something about the lights that made it hard to focus, something about the pulsing of the strobes triggering something in the brain.  _What was it again? What is he saying?  Oh this is nice. That feels so weird. What's in this soap. Why can't I talk?  Well, I can, but it's so slurred. And I have no definitive inner monologue. Ah shit, he's staring at me. I've said half of that out loud? He knows it feels odd, it's a plant they put in the soap for medical patients in pain or panic? I like it. I want some. I'm gonna take this back with me. Oh damn, he heard that too. He said I can have one, I think. Why does that not excite me? I think... I just want the one he has. Yeah, that's the problem. I want the bottle he has. And his jacket. Damn, I can't pretend it's mine either. But i want it. Oh I can borrow it? You fucking mind reader. I'm still talking partially out loud, aren't I ? Yeah. Okay. Whatever. Why is it getting so dark, and hot, and it's..._

 

_It's..._

_Nice..._

Sam fell under the effects of the plant easily, making for a quick transport to T'challa's room. Wrapped in a towel and out like a light, once Sam was tucked into T'challa's bed there was no denying his exhaustion. He'd been through enough for a lifetime. T'challa stopped to spectate the sight, endearment filling a small part of his head, one way tucked in the back, under all the mess he'd had to work with. 'You are mine, Sam Wilson. They will never have you again.'. He strode out, after tucking Sam in and trying not to think of touching his face. "I need a nap".

 


	5. Art club

The world spun at warp speed, technology advancing, education flourishing, and T'challa tending to his ever growing crop of children visitors.  

"Look at my drawing Mister King Tachalla!"

"It's King  _T'CHA_ lla, dummy!"

"That's what I said!"

"Now children, you must pay attention, the king doesn't have time to fool around with-"

T'challa raised a hand, a stand still sweeping the bustling room. He stood up, his steps weightless and muted, gliding over to the loudest table in the room. He picked up the drawing that very crudely depicted the kingdom. "You've done a wonderful job, young lady." The little girls smile shone bright while her eyes glistened with unshed tears, unable to understand why she felt like this was the most important day of her life. She watched in amazement as he had her sign it and hung it up on the wall closest to them. "May the kingdom be protected by your charm." 

 Grubby little hands clamoured to finish their own creations as the king took his place back at the grandiose chaise lounge he was once seated at before. This was a normal meeting with the little ones of the kingdom. All the children of the kingdom been invited to an arts and crafts club due to meet weekly, to give the king an update on their beautiful little world and what they wanted to see when they grew up. Displays like this were often. He'd hang one up, then when the parents came, he'd give the art to them for safe keeping. It was worth every cup of spilled juice, every cry, every throw up of confectionery sweets, to see their shining little faces. 

 The meetings lasted around three hours. It gave all the children time to complete a few good pieces, eat a good meal. Some children opted to play that day, which was fine, there were toys and pets and flashy bright things to be messed with. As things wrapped up, all the little ones lined up to give the king a hug and return to their parents. With admiration filling his heart, T'challa dutifully gave each hug as much energy as the one before it. It was a beautiful sight, watching his kingdom grow and flourish with life and love. 

  As the children filed out and the clean up crew came in, T'Challa made his way to the bedroom, hoping dearly that a certain guest had overstayed his welcome.

 

 Swift strides carried T'Challa to his room as he fought to mask his expression of hope and feign fatigue. Would Sam have left already? Would he be embarrassed? There was a 'Good Morning' text sent earlier, but no reply. Worry started to creep up on him. Once arriving, T'Challa warily creaked the door open. The sight quieted his fears. There Sam was, the sunlight bathing his bronze skin. He was beautiful in the way one would view a kintsugi. Broken, but the scars told stories. He slept for thirteen hours straight? 

Slipping off his tailcoat, and shoes, T'Challa made his way to the other side of the enormous bed. Getting into some comfortable clothes while Sam was in the room fazed T'Challa only after he'd done it. The silks his pants were fashioned from were worth their seams in gold, but Sam wouldn't know that. He didn't care for the worth of things, just the feelings behind them. Sliding silently under the sheets, T'Challa had to almost physically restrain himself from holding the guest bed attendee. What on earth was he doing? Why was it so hard to just lay there, a little close, but still apart? He wanted to him this man. Hold him and protect him and make him feel like everything was alright. He wanted to make him laugh all day and all night they could... 

 The silks began to feel hot and bothersome, this was not the time to feel this way. To have  _such feelings_ was inappropriate in the current setting. Sam was asleep and vulnerable and T'Challa was growing hot. Slowly but surely his physic began giving away all the love he wished to share with Sam, causing him to sit back up, head in his hands. "Of all the times-" He started grumbling before Sam began stirring. The way his back arched in a full body yawn made T'Challa weak. Looking at the sun nearly blinding him, Sam groaned and flipped over, making instant eye contact with the king. 

"Oh shit-"

Sam jumped out of his skin, completely bewildered that he hadn't seen or at least  _heard_ T'Challa come in, get changed, and join him. 

"How are you?"

A small smile creeped onto his face, mixed feeling swimming around his head. 

"I'm... okay. I'm not going to throw up on you again, if that's what you mean."

"I was not, but thank you for the clarification."

The silence settled into both of them, they sat and admired what they saw in each other. 

Sam made the first move in a way. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I can regularly update now yay


End file.
